


Text Message Received

by rpfwriters



Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Bad date, F/M, Gen, Language, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 23:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rpfwriters/pseuds/rpfwriters
Summary: Sebastian receives an unexpected text from you.





	Text Message Received

**Author's Note:**

> M/F/N: my friend’s name

“What do you think?” you asked your best friend as you snapped a picture. “We thinking a skirt or pants?”

She was silent for a moment as the picture loaded. “Pants, definitely. Tight and black. Let the man see your curves!”

“Shut up,” you scoffed.

“Know who you should send the picture to?” You could hear the smile in her voice.

You knew exactly where this was going. Groaning, you rolled your eyes and stepped into a pair of pants that matched your friend’s description. “I am not going to text a picture to Seb. Especially one I’m almost naked in.”

She chuckled almost wickedly. “Come on, Y/N. You two have the hots for each other. We can all see it.”

“So says you.”

“Just send it,” she continued to tease.

There was only one way to get her to drop it. With a heavy sigh, you pretended to give in. “If it will make you happy. Yes, I’ll send it.”

You had absolutely no intention of sending the picture, but your phone didn’t know that. The voice recognition software that came already installed made quick work of doing exactly what you said.

* * *

 

Seb’s phone buzzed, interrupting a particularly nerdy conversation with Chris. He pulled it from his pocket, smiling at the alert on his phone.

> _Text message received from Y/N/N. Swipe to see media._

Without thinking twice, Seb swiped his thumb over the screen and was rewarded with a picture of Y/N. It wasn’t the goofy kind of picture she would normally send; this was more risque. She was wearing a black and white striped dressy tank, bodice-like, snug, flaring out at her hips. Accompanying the shirt was a simple pair of white cotton panties.

He knew he should stop staring, close the picture, and send Y/N a text, let her know he received it by mistake. It was a mistake, right? It had to be. They were friends, that’s it. Nothing more had ever happened between them. Not that Seb wasn’t interested. He was  _crazy_  interested. He just had no idea how to tell you without having you laugh in his face.

“Is that Y/N?” Chris asked as he peered over Seb’s shoulder.

Seb could feel the heat in his cheeks. He swallowed hard and turned off his phone. “It was a mistake,” he mumbled.

“That looked like it was anything  _but_  a mistake,” Chris joked, pushing his friend’s shoulder.

“Shuddup,” Seb said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m tellin’ ya,” Chris said, Boston accent thick. “That picture wasn’t a mistake.”

Rolling his eyes, Seb shoved the phone into his pocket. “She would never send me a picture like that.” Or would she? No, she wouldn’t. She saw him as a friend, and that was it.

“But what if she did?” pushed Chris, munching loudly on the dill pickle that accompanied his sandwich.

“Jesus, Chris,” Seb groaned. “Will it make you feel better if I ask her?”

Chris’ demeanor completely shifted, moving from playful to serious. “It will make me feel better if you would just tell the girl how you feel.”

All Seb did was roll his eyes. It didn’t matter how many times Chris said that Y/N was staring at Seb, or blushing after a compliment given, he just didn’t believe it. She had always gravitated toward the darker, grittier, naughtier guys. He was nothing like those douchebags, they always broke Y/N’s heart, and Seb was the one to be there for her, pick up the broken pieces, help put her back together.  Just in time for the next guy.

Maybe Seb needed to get over the anxiety that threatened to choke him whenever she was around. Maybe he would give her a call, invite her over, talk to her, tell her how he really felt. Maybe.

* * *

The night had been a complete disaster. First off, your date had been almost an hour late. When he finally showed up, he called you by another name. Then he started talking about this band he and his friends had formed when they were in high school. That wouldn’t normally bug you, but the way he talked about only being in it for ‘all that ass,’ made you want to throw your drink in his face. After an awkward conversation where he blatantly checked out a handful of women that strolled by, you flagged down your waitress for the check. He then pretended to not have his wallet on him. You only knew he pretended because he had pulled it out when he ordered a drink.

You smiled at him and grabbed the check, assuring him that it was no big deal. Excusing yourself, you dropped the check off with your waitress over at the bar, telling her about the ‘date.’

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “What an asshole. Go, we’ll take care of him,” she assured you before catching her manager’s attention. You were out the door and headed to your friend’s house before the waitress got to the table.

* * *

Seb was playing with his phone, trying to gather the courage to call you, and then quickly talking himself out of it. Having had enough of himself, he tossed the phone away from him, sighing heavily as it bounced on the cushion at the end of the couch.

Why was this so damn difficult? Why couldn’t he just get up the nerve to call you? He didn’t have to confess anything, not tonight, just invite you over for a movie and some popcorn. Damn, that sounded so cheesy, he cringed, both mentally and physically. He was just about to stand and trudge upstairs when someone knocked on the door.

Opening it, he found you smiling shyly and holding a pint of your favorite ice cream. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“A’course not,” Seb mumbled, stepping to the side, giving you ample room. You smelled of vanilla and honey, filling his mind with a thousand images, most of them weren’t PG rated. He shook himself, demanded that he get a hold of himself, and followed you into the kitchen.

“Who did what this time?” Jeez, he hoped he didn’t sound as bitter as he felt.

You had grabbed two spoons, tore the top off, and kicked off your heels. “Marcus,” you sighed. “His name should’a been a red fucking flag.”

Seb grabbed his spoon and dug into the ice cream. “It is kind of a douchey name.”

With a mouthful of ice cream, you mumbled in agreement. “You don’t even want to know what he did besides having a douchey name.”

“Am I going to want to hunt him down and kill him?” Seb asked, forcing down the bubble of anger that threatened to choke him.

He was going to find out one way or another, so you told him. You left nothing out, not even the way Marcus leered at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Or when Marcus fumbled with his wallet when he dug out his license, and a magnum condom fell onto the table. You had to force yourself not to gag at that.

Sebastian was rolling his eyes so hard you thought they were going to fall out of his head. “You deserve so much better,” he mumbled, not even realizing he hadn’t kept the thought internal.

“What was that?” you asked, swallowing too much ice cream too fast. One brain freeze, coming up.

He swore under his breath. There was no turning back now. “I said, you deserve so much better.” When you scoffed, he grabbed your hand. “You do, Y/N. You’re an amazing, sweet, talented, kind-hearted woman, and you deserve to have someone treat you as such.”

“You find someone that will do exactly that, you let me know,” you sighed, not wanting to let go of his hand, not yet.

He swallowed thickly and stared at you with those eyes that were the bluest of blue. “I would never dream of treating you the way Marcus did, the way the other guys have.”

The hand Sebastian was holding started to shake, and you thought for a moment that it was yours, but it wasn’t; it was his. You licked your lips nervously and squeezed his hand.

“They were right,” you chuckled.

His brows furrowed. “Who was right about what?”

“Chris, M/F/N; everyone. They’ve been telling me that I should… that we should-”

“Suck it up and admit our feelings for each other?” Sebastian finished.

You turned your hand over in his, tangled your fingers together, finding the weight of his hand comforting, the way it molded perfectly with yours. You hummed softly when you looked into his eyes again, seeing everything he had been keeping a secret.

“Me too, Seb,” you breathed, leaning closer to him.

He smirked shyly and reached up to cup your face, sweeping his thumb over your chin. “Me, too,” he agreed, catching your lips in his a moment later.


End file.
